I like to walk...
but I don’t follow the way,
well, what’s sure no longer hides a secret,
I like to go with the summer...
far away,
but to return to my mother
in winter
to see the dogs that have never forgotten me,
to feel the embraces that my brothers give me.
I like the sun
and crying women,
swallows and also ladies,
to jump over balconies and to open windows,
and the girls of April.
I like wine the same way as flowers
and lovers, but not gentlemen,
I love to be a friend of thieves
and I like songs in French.
I’m not from here... I’m not from there
I have neither past nor future.
and being happy is the color of my identity.
I’m not from here... I’m not from there
I have neither past nor future.
and being happy is the color of my identity.
I like lying without end on the beach
or chasing Manuela on a bicycle,
or to watch all the time the stars
together with María in the cornfield.
I’m not from here... I’m not from there
I have neither past nor future.
and being happy is the color of my identity.
I’m not from here... I’m not from there
I have neither past nor future.
and being happy is the color of my identity.